the wrong side of the bed.

i secretly harbor a theory that the human mind is wired to crave routine. though we're all reticent to admit it, there is something about the familiarity of repetitive behavior that soothes us, allows us to cope more easily with a wild wild world. it seeps into everything we do: we use the same routes to travel to work each day; we sleep on the same side of the bed; we always put the same arm into our coatsleeves first. it's generally not noticeable, because it feels so familiar; we don't need to give it a second thought.
until the routine changes.
sleeping on the different side of the bed. putting your coat on using your non-dominant arm. subway disruption. the slightest change, and the world feels somehow wrong for just a couple of minutes.
it's the wrongness that keeps us from breaking routine. it's disorienting. it's disconcerting. and the whole point of routine is to prevent that sensation of the world not fitting properly from happening. it gives us peace of mind, even when the routine is not necessarily constructive. this is why we stay in damaging situations even when we know they're not good for us; no matter how bad something is, the prospect of encountering the unknown, the unfamiliar is always somehow a little bit worse. this is why i stayed in my last job for two years; i probably could have escaped earlier than i did, but i was so scared about the prospect of starting again that it stayed my hand a little. but eventually, something had to give, and the comfortable routine had to be broken. and while i do miss the security of a familiar perch, a mindless job that a monkey could do in its sleep, i know in the long run that this new state of affairs is going to be much better for me, no matter how overwhelming and scary it seems now.
it does not, however, mean i'm going to be volunteering to sleep on the right hand side of the bed anytime soon, that's for damn sure.